Sunday, March 29, 2015

This time next week, those of us who survived will be
cleaning up the fur, blood and chocolate left over from Easter morning. We will
remember those we lost and dread their reincarnation as a blood thirsty rabbit
and the vengeful return they will make next year. But why focus on the dark and
horrifying Easter traditions when there are so many good parts?

One of
the best Easter traditions is the Easter Egg Hunt. A bunch of brightly colored
plastic eggs, filled with candy and then scattered around an expansive field
for children to scurry around and find. It’s magical. It was also the scene of
most of my greatest competitive triumphs.

As a
child, I was – and I’m not bragging when I say this – no worse than the second
greatest egg-hunter of my generation. Much like the Williams sisters in tennis,
my younger sister and I spent years jockeying between first and second in the
rankings. One of us was always at the top of every nationally-recognized and respected
egg-hunting poll. Our names are still said in hushed whispers in churches and YMCAs
around the greater Roxborough, PA area as spring dawns, for fear we may return
like the souls of rabbit-ravaged loved ones.

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

With the beard so went my interest in writing about your show apparently

Sad news: The poorly titled “Good and Bad” column is no
more. I know, I know. Sad faces all around. Last night, I was halfway into
trying to decipher just what the hell was going on with Rick’s character when I
realized a pair of things. Thing #1: I don’t really enjoy writing about “The
Walking Dead” anymore. Thing #2: I’ve become so jaded by writing about “The Walking
Dead” that I’d almost completed a bulleted list describing why a character who
beats his wife is more likeable than the show’s hero.

When a
man gets to that point, it’s time to step back from the keyboard, put away the
sarcasm and rethink all of the steps that got him there.

So
instead, here’s an embarrassing story that happened to me the other day at that
place that I go to in the morning in between bed and work. In addition to
curbing my TV reviews, I’m also trying to stop namedropping the gym as much,
but it was the gym. This story happened at the gym.

If you’ll
recall a few weeks back, I told you about a pair of old guys whose names I know,
but who don’t know mine. I talk to them a bunch, but somehow we skipped over
that whole awkward introduction phase and went right into daily acquaintance.
Those were simpler times. Back before a zombie TV show broke my soul.

Anyway,
so the next chapter in that sad and meh tale goes as such: It was a Friday morning,
just like any other Friday morning. I’d completed my workout for the day and
was completely tuned out to the world, as is often the case when I’m at that
place that I don’t want to mention by name. I was walking to the locker room,
when I was accosted by the one older gentleman.

Editor’s
note: The names in this story have been changed to protect the innocent.

“Hey!”
he said. I stopped. I had headphones on, so what he said next was slightly
muffled, but it sounded like: “It’s Tyrion, by the way.”

Monday, March 16, 2015

Plot: I could start this off with a giant paragraph or two
outlining every single little thing about the plot of last night’s “The Walking
Dead,” or I could sum it up in one, slightly modified, Taylor Swift lyric:
“Haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, ‘Walking Dead’ gonna walking dead,
dead, dead.”

Monday, March 9, 2015

Plot: The gang learned a valuable lesson about society last
night: If you want to be part of one, you have to put up with cocktails parties
and no matter what “Mad Men” told you, cocktails parties will never ever be fun.
Are there cocktail parties on “Made Men?” I have no idea. I never watched it.
Seems like a show that would have lots of cocktail parties. So, “Walking Dead.”
The Alexandria people throw a cocktail party, most of Rick’s crew shows up and
looks uncomfortable, Daryl and Aaron bond over horse murder, spaghetti and
motorcycles, Carol swipes some guns from the armory, but gets caught by a
child, whom she then threatens, Sasha is all over the fucking road and RICK
KISSES A GIRL!

Monday, March 2, 2015

Plot: On last night’s “Walking Dead” we got our first look
inside Aaron’s Party, the town which I guess prefers to go by the much more
boring name of “Alexandria,” and it was a bit touch and go. See, Rick’s crew
has some trust issues when it comes to new people and so even though things
seem kind of amazing in “Alexandria” – they have hot food, running water,
videogames, mansions plum for the pickin’ and herds of free-roaming barbers,
everyone on Rick’s side does their best to remain unimpressed. Alexandria’s
leader gives the gang jobs, but the assimilation process doesn’t go smoothly
since Rick’s gang is still super suspicious of the Alexandrites, who they see
as weak. At the end of the episode, there’s a brief scuffle between the head of
Alexandria’s son and Glenn over the best way to treat walkers, there’s a lot of
tension, Rick gets named sheriff and then he immediately launches into a plan
to overthrow the Alexandrites and steal their town and their walls and their
solar-powered dealys. Because survival. Hunt or be hunted. The Alexandrites are
weak and thus deserve to lose their town. And so what if Rick’s gang maybe
cooks and eats one or two of the Alexandrites? Is that so wrong? If they’re too
weak to take care of themselves, at least the strong should benefit from them,
right? Claim that town!